


Learning Patience

by Zappa



Series: Lessons in Humanity [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dom John Watson, Johnlock - Freeform, Light BDSM, M/M, Sub Sherlock Holmes, no names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4203285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zappa/pseuds/Zappa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Detective is a very impatient man. Perhaps The Doctor can teach him some patience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Patience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All the ones who came before me.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=All+the+ones+who+came+before+me.).



> I decided to try my hand at a Sherlock fandom fanfic. I hope you all enjoy it, I was inspired by so many of your wonderful tales! It's my first atempt, so let me know what you think! I can also be found on Tumblr at my Sherlock Holmes BBC RP Blog, @mrshudsonstolemyskull  
> Thanks for all the encouragement and support!

The Detective paced in the small flat, a caged animal. Hands fidgeted as he checked his watch again: 8:32 PM. The Doctor was, uncharacteristically, late. 

When the sound of tires hit his ears, The Detective ran to the window and peered out onto the street below. A smile overtook him as he watched the other man get out of a taxi, tip his hat to the cabbie and turn to face his home.

The Detective jerked back, lest he be caught spying. The point was to seem nonplussed, unconcerned. He quickly retreated to his chair, crossing his long legs and settling back into the same position he had been in when The Doctor had left for work earlier that day.

Before he had even closed the door, The Detective had finished his question.

“Long day, then?”

The Doctor turned, shutting the door with his finger, and dropped a bag onto the floor. The smile on his face was genuine, but covered something else, something that eluded The Detective.

“Yes, actually. It was.” The Doctor moved to the tiny kitchen, shucking off his jacket on the way, it landing with precision on the back of his own chair. “Tea?”

“Lovely. Thank you.”

The Detective managed to advert his gaze from The Doctor’s back as he sat, waiting for an elaboration. None came. The flat was silent as the tea was prepared, and The Doctor brought over both cups. He handed The Detective his.

“Here you are,” he said cheerfully. The Detective’s eyes squinted as he accepted the cup, nodding thanks. He turned it by the handle, raising it as The Doctor did the same. They sipped in silence. 

The Doctor turned and smiled, leaning back into the chair with a sigh. 

“This is nice,” he sighed contentedly. The Detective stared as The Doctor’s eyes closed for a moment.

“Tell me about your day,” The Detective blurted, causing The Doctor to roll his head, eyes snapping open.

“What?” he asked incredulously. “You never want to hear about my work.”

“Well, I do now. People can change, can’t they?” The Detective’s voice rose in pitch, and he sat his cup down on the table. He crossed his hands, and leaned forward in his chair. “Please.”

“What’s gotten into you?” The Doctor sat his own cup down, sitting up and frowning. 

“Nothing. I am merely… curious.” The Detective was curious, not about The Doctor’s work, but about what had caused his day to be so very long.

There was a brief pause, as if trying to gauge whether this was authentic, before The Doctor nodded. “Alright, then. Well, uh, let’s see. My first patient was-”

“Yes, yes, fascinating,” The Detective interrupted, waving a hand impatiently. The Doctor’s mouth hung open, mid-sentence. 

“Why don’t you skip to the end of your day, and tell me backwards?” The Detective urged, much to The Doctor’s amusement. 

“What are you at?” he inquired, eyes crinkling slightly as his smile turned knowing. The Detective leaned his long frame back into the chair and retrieved his tea.

“I’ve no idea what you mean.”

“Is this because I was a little late getting in tonight?”

The Detective turned his head slowly, eyes piercing as he attempted boredom. 

“A little late?”

“Yes, I would call-” The Doctor checked his watch “- what, five minutes? a little late.”

“Two minutes,” The Detective muttered petulantly. The Doctor’s smile froze as he tilted his head.

“Sorry, what?”

“Two minutes, I said. Two. I was keeping check.”

The Doctor was silent long enough to cause The Detective to glance over. His eyes held as The Doctor rose from his chair slowly. 

“So. You don’t appreciate being made to wait, do you?” The Doctor’s voice was even and low. The Detective opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so he simply nodded. The Doctor smiled, and it did not match his voice.

“Well then. Maybe we should teach you some patience,” he suggested, reaching out and grabbing the leaner man by the arm. He jerked him to his feet. 

“What are you doing?” The Detective protested, stumbling to keep up as he was dragged further into their home. The muscle in his arm burned under The Doctor’s grip. 

“First lesson starts now,” was all the answer The Doctor gave. 

***************************************************************************************************

The Detective was thrown to the bed. He turned, mouth open in indignation, but The Doctor was having none of it.

“Shut up,” he barked, before The Detective had a chance to speak. “Just sit there, and shut up.”

Slowly, oh, much too slowly, The Doctor began to remove his clothes. The Detective caught on with a grin, and began to unbutton his own shirt. Immediately, The Doctor’s voice was in his ear.

“No.” He was over The Detective in a flash, one hand gripping his thin wrist, the other wrapping tightly into his hair. He whimpered. The Doctor smirked.

“No,” he said softer, removing his grip from the frail bones, but running his other through the curls. “Not yet. Patience.”

The Doctor straightened again, and finished removing the rest of his clothes. His eyes were intense, before he broke contact, glancing down.

He reached down with one hand, and grasped his own cock, making a soft, throaty sound. The Detective watched with wide, wonder-filled eyes, settling himself back on his elbows as The Doctor began to stroke himself. A low sound was coming from him, and it caused The Detective to moan softly.

His eyes were finally met by The Doctor’s, a smile behind them. The Detective wanted to touch himself, badly, but due to the outburst over his attempt to undress, he doubted it would be a good idea.

The Doctor seemed to know this, as he shook his head. The smile behind his eyes moved to his lips, as they parted and he whispered, “Uh-uh.” The Detective shivered.

His hand began to move again, The Doctor keeping his eyes fixed upon The Detective this time. He knew this was cruel, could see the obvious arousal through the other man’s pants, but it was necessary. The Detective could behave like a spoiled child at times, and mostly, it didn’t bother The Doctor. Tonight, however, his behavior had struck a raw nerve. Not that they both weren’t enjoying this torture.

“Jesus,” came the soft sigh from The Doctor’s lips as he found the sensitive underside on the head of his cock. His eyelashes fluttered, but he kept his gaze steady as he addressed The Detective.

“Do you like this? Watching me wank?” His voice was low, his hand slow. The Detective let out a whiny keen, which was apparently all he could manage. He had begun to squirm, his fists tightly clenched into the bed sheets. The Doctor stopped his movements.

“I asked you a question,” he demanded softly, tilting his head to the side. His eyes squinted a bit. “That usually requires an answer.”

“Yes,” The Detective finally managed, his own eyes closing momentarily before he leaned forward a fraction. “Yes, please. Please, don’t stop…”

The Doctor let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s not really up to you,” he informed, but his hand resumed it’s motion. A groan was emitted from parted lips, and met by The Detective’s own sounds of lust.

His fist moved faster now, creating more friction. The Doctor took a single step closer to the bed, and it was all The Detective could do not to leap from his place, and fall to his knees before the man.

“Give me your hand.”

At first, The Detective wasn’t sure he had heard right. In fact, he was positive he hadn’t. But when he glanced up into The Doctor’s eyes, he knew differently. Inching to the edge of the bed, he sat up, tucking his knees under him, and reached out with a shaky hand. 

The Doctor’s cock was already slick with pre-cum, and The Detective’s hand slid easily over the sensitive head, inciting a sharp hiss from The Doctor.

Fascination mixed with lust. It raged through The Detective’s veins. His wrist popped loudly as he twisted his closed fist over the tip, then gripped a bit tighter as he followed the vein-laden length down to the root, then up again, repeating the motion a second time before The Doctor reached down and grabbed his wrist. The Detective lifted his head, eyes heavy, mouth parted.

“Spit,” The Doctor ordered, and The Detective glanced from the man’s face back to his cock. Understanding the confusion, The Doctor clarified. “In your hand. Spit in your hand, and keep stroking me.”

The Detective obeyed, deciding first to lick the palm of his hand, causing The Doctor to moan and shiver. The Detective grinned and regained his grip on The Doctor’s cock.

The slickness was renewed, and The Detective picked up a short, sharp pace. He knew all too well how The Doctor liked to be touched, and was happy to oblige. As he heard the second sound of pleasure escape The Doctor’s lips, The Detective became brave enough to lean forward, and lick the salty tip of his cock.

Immediately he was shoved backwards by his shoulders, falling over himself and flatly on the bed. The Doctor was breathing heavily above him, scowling. 

“No,” he barked, pointing a finger at The Detective, who scrambled to sit up and plead his case. It was too late, however, as The Doctor turned sharply on his heel and walked out, slamming the door behind him. The Detective knew better than to follow. 

***************************************************************************************************

The second lesson came early the next morning, before The Doctor was rushing out the door for work.

“Make sure you eat breakfast. All of it,” he insisted with a smirk, shouldering on his jacket. The Detective yawned and pulled the sheet tighter around his bare, thin frame. 

“Yes, yes,” he said flippantly, waving a hand. “Make sure you are home on time.”

The Doctor leaned down where he sat and kissed his cheek, then placed his mouth next to The Detective’s ear.

“Or what?” he whispered, playfully biting the lobule. The Detective gasped and arched in his seat, gripping the arms of the chair, his eyes fluttering. His brain had shut down, so he merely responded with a garbled sound of desire.

He heard The Doctor chuckling as he picked up his bag and headed for the door. His eyes were full of mischief as he turned to blow a kiss.

“Don’t wait up.”

****************************************************************************************************

Eight-thirty came and went, with no sign of The Good Doctor. The Detective had been very good, not relieving himself of the tension placed on him by the previous night’s show. The unbearable agony was soon overridden by doubt, as the minutes ticked by, then panic, once it became ten-o-clock.

The Detective was in the middle of making himself a sandwich for dinner, having forgotten to eat in his anxious state, when the door opened and The Doctor entered. The Detective emerged from the small kitchen, a wavering smile on his face. He wrung his hands together nervously.

“You’re home,” he observed, biting back the finally. The Doctor smiled as he shut the door and came up to hug the other man warmly.

“Yes, I’m home,” he said, releasing The Detective and taking off his jacket. He grinned. “Thought I told you not to wait up.”

The Detective froze, his eyes darting to the bedroom. Should he have gone to bed? He motioned to the kitchen.

“I was, um, making myself a sandwich. Would you like one? I’m sure you must be starving.”

“Sure. Thanks.” The Doctor settled himself into his chair as The Detective flitted about their kitchen, preparing the food. He brought The Doctor his plate.

“Oh, thanks.” 

The Detective nodded and sat himself in his own chair, nibbling at the crust. He wasn’t very hungry, but he knew it made The Doctor happy to know he had ingested some form of nutrients during the day. 

The Doctor finished his own sandwich in about three bites, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and setting the crumb filled plate down. His eyes met The Detective’s with a small smile.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said mysteriously. The Detective’s eyes narrowed.

“You mean a gift?”

“Something like that,” The Doctor laughed, rising from his chair. He ruffled The Detective’s hair and picked up his bag. “When you’ve finished your sandwich, come to the bedroom.”

The Detective stared, wide-eyed and curious until The Doctor had stepped out of view. He was about to toss the sandwich and be done with it, but he forced the rest of it down and scrambled to his feet, approaching their bedroom with caution.

The Doctor was sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling. Beside him, a grey metal case was closed and latched. The Doctor patted the bed next to him. 

“C’mere,” he said softly, scooting over as The Detective sat, a quizzical expression plastered over his face. The Doctor reached down and placed the case on his lap, turning it to face The Detective.

“Open it.”

The Detective frowned, snapping the latches and lifting the lid. Inside this boring, plain looking case was a treasure trove of pain and pleasure. It was a violet wand kit.

The Detective’s mouth fell open, his eyes lifting to meet The Doctor’s. Carefully, he traced the outline of an attachment that looked like a rake proportioned for pixies.

“Are you pleased?” The Doctor asked, placing one hand on The Detective’s cheek and stroking it affectionately. The Detective nodded, then caught himself. 

“Yes. Very pleased. You got this…. For me?”

“Of course,” The Doctor chuckled, lowering his hand to remove the wand. He held it up, inspecting it. Then he glanced back to The Detective.

“Do you know why I got this?”

The Detective cocked his head to the side, taking in the sight of the wand in The Doctor’s strong hand. He swallowed and nodded.

“I… believe so. This is to help teach me patience, yes?” he inquired, glancing up hesitantly to The Doctor.

“Yes. Very good,” The Doctor offered proudly, running one hand through the curls of The Detective, who beamed with the praise. 

The Doctor began to read the instructions, mumbling to himself as The Detective gazed over the electrode attachments. There were so many to choose from; hearts, spirals, probes, orbs… 

He glanced up to The Doctor, silently mouthing words as he read to himself, his brows bunched in concentration. The Detective’s heart melted with the thought that so much effort was being put into this, into his pleasure. And pain.

“So, um, what’s it say?” he asked quietly, nodding to the paper in The Doctor’s hands. He glanced up with a smile and scratched his eyebrow.

“Well, it’s just simple instructions…. ‘Insert desired electrode into the unit, making sure it is seated securely and the wand’s cord is plugged into an outlet. Take care not to twist the electrode as you insert it, for this may loosen-”

He was abruptly cut off when The Detective moaned, low and soft, into his ear. The Doctor turned and grinned.

“What? Are you actually getting off on me reading the instructions?”

“It’s all just…. overwhelming,” he confessed, shrugging and blushing. The Doctor laughed and ruffled his hair.

“Alright then. I think I got the gist of it, anyway. Which one would you like to try out first?”

The Detective gazed over the many attachments, swallowing loudly. The Doctor placed a hand on his knee.

“Hey. It’s fine. It’s all fine,” he said softly, rubbing through The Detective’s pants with his thumb. He lifted one from the case that looked like a Y incision. 

“Let’s start with this one, yeah? It’s not as… Intense.” 

The Detective nodded, speech once again failing him as he unbuttoned his shirt while The Doctor prepared the device. They gazed at each other for a moment, before The Doctor cleared his throat.

“Right,” he said, his voice taking on that I’m in charge now tone The Detective loved so much. “We’ll start above waist, but I think it’d be best if you removed your belt. And lie back.”

The Detective obeyed wordlessly, letting the leather strap fall from his hand to the floor as he scooted back on the bed. The Doctor stood and approached from the side. His eyes were focused, but blown wide from arousal.

“Okay. I’m going to start on the lowest setting,” he informed The Detective, adjusting the wand’s knob on the base. He placed the kit on the floor, turned out the light, and turned the wand on.

It emitted a low hum, and The Detective made a similar sound. The Doctor smiled and exhaled through his nose.

“Ready?”

The Detective nodded.

The electrode glowed a pretty violet. The Doctor grinned lopsidedly, and cautiously raised his other hand to the device. A small spark flew from the Y, and zapped his fingertip.

“Oh!” he gasped, shaking his hand and laughing. The Detective sat up, chewing his lower lip. The Doctor smiled and raised his empty hand.

“It’s alright,” he soothed, easing The Detective back. “Just wanted to check.” The Detective didn’t seem sure, so The Doctor fixed him with the look.

“I said it’s fine. Now, are you ready to begin?” 

The Detective didn’t have a chance to articulate his reply, for the glowing tip came within an inch of his chest, emitting a flash of purple, causing him to arch up off the bed, and gasp. 

His eyes flew open, and he clutched the sheets in his fists. His breath was ragged, and when he turned his head to The Doctor, he could make out a smile in the dark.

“There. See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The Doctor chuckled, moving around the bed, a predator circling it’s prey. He tilted his head, waiting for an answer, and deciding where to place the next blow.

“Yes…. No…. Not too bad,” The Detective gasped out, before another jolt was sent through his nipple. This time he howled, and jumped away. The Doctor grabbed him around a thin ankle, and pulled him back. 

“Stay,” he growled, “or I will tie you down.”

The threat, or promise, depending on how you looked at it, caused The Detective to moan deliciously. The Doctor couldn’t keep the amusement from his voice.

“Oh, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he said softly, gently tracing The Detective’s ribs with the glowing end of the wand. The Detective inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, shutting his eyes tightly, his head thrashing side to side. 

“Answer me,” The Doctor snapped, zapping the other nipple.

“Yes,” came the whimpered reply.

“Yeah, of course you would,” The Doctor continued, teasing the other man, getting closer, then further away. The Y glowed in the darkness, a neon symbol of gratification. “Would want me to tie you up, so you couldn’t move, couldn’t be in control.” Zap. “You like being in control, don’t you?” Zap. “Well, you’re not in control anymore, are you?”

“Yes,” The Detective gasped, his thoughts falling away, the air becoming heavy with the scent of an approaching storm. “No….”

The Doctor sat beside him on the bed.

“Take off your pants.”

The Detective gazed with the last of his resistance up at The Doctor. “But-”

Zap.

His pants were off, thrown to the floor. The Doctor smiled.

“Good. I’m not going to use this on you there. Yet,” he promised, grasping the other man’s erection, creating a delicious sound. As he stroked, he trailed the Y up and down The Detective’s chest.

“You have been so good,” he murmured, leaning to kiss the long pale throat from which came the sound of angels crying. “Been such a patient boy. Couldn’t have been easy, keeping your hands to yourself all this time. But you did it. And I’m so proud of you…”

The Detective came with a shout, eyes open wide, staring at something no one else could see. Unintelligible words fell from his lips, in turn with the other man’s name. The Doctor turned off the wand and unplugged it, placing it back in the case. Then he turned, grinning.

“C’mere,” he said softly, patting his leg. The Detective made it to his feet, and stumbled over.

The Doctor undid his pants, pushing The Detective down gently by the shoulder with one hand, the other holding his own hard cock.

“Suck it,” he ordered, and The Detective obediently opened his mouth, savoring the taste of sweat and desire. The Doctor threw his head back, eyes closed.

“Oh, that’s good,” he murmured, running a hand through The Detective’s sweaty curls. “Such a good boy. Such a brilliant mouth…”

They both slept like the dead that night.

*************************************************************************************************

The lesson in patience was put abruptly on hold for a few weeks as The Detective was asked to give his expertise in more than one very interesting case. When not working in his own respective field of employment, The Doctor would help out, giving his medical opinion and double checking all clues that came their way. Once all the commotion had died down, and they got back into their routine, it was The Detective who was first to bring up resuming. 

“So,” he said casually one night, as the two sat in their living room, sipping tea and listening to the rain, “when might you want to continue my lessons?”

The Doctor paused, the cup half-way to his lips as he gazed over the top at The Detective. He smiled as he lowered his tea.

“Eager, are we? Well, then. Er, I suppose we could begin again-”

The Doctor was interrupted as The Detective quickly put his cup down and slid to his knees in front of The Doctor’s chair. He lifted The Doctor’s cup and gracefully placed it on the table, scooting closer and gripping the man’s thighs. He gazed up adoringly.

“I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate this… All you’ve done for me. It has not gone unnoticed. Thank you.”

“Ah.” The Doctor cleared his throat, eyebrows raised in surprise. He gave a small smile, and ran his hand through The Detective’s hair.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured softly, enjoying the look of pure bliss on The Detective’s face as his eyes fluttered closed, turning his head to allow The Doctor greater access to his curls, pressing his lips against the inside of The Doctor’s knee. He whispered something, and The Doctor leaned forward a bit.

“Sorry? Didn’t quite catch that…”

The Detective lifted his head reluctantly, pupils blown. He already felt as if he was coming apart at the seams, the effect The Doctor had on him never failed to fascinate him.

“Said ‘I love you’,” he breathed, eyes searching The Doctor’s face. “I’ve always loved you, I always will. You are my world, and I would do anything for you. If you told me to throw myself off a building, I would. If you told me to jump in front of traffic, I would do it at rush hour. Anything. I would do anything.”

“Yes, well. I don’t think that’s gonna be uh, necessary,” The Doctor chuckled, giving The Detective an affectionate pat. He held his face, and dipped his head, giving the other man a chaste kiss. He stared into those brilliant eyes.

“I love you, too,” he murmured, taking hold of The Detective’s hand, and standing. He pulled him close, wrapping his arms around the thin man. 

“C’mon…”

“You’re not going to shock me again, are you?” The Detective teased as The Doctor led him by the hand back to their bedroom. The Doctor took his hand, and raised it to his lips, kissing the knuckles.

“No,” he chuckled. “Not this time.”

**************************************************************************************************

The lesson continued.

They lay naked together on their bed, holding, touching, murmuring soft approvals as The Detective stretched and responded, sighing happy, soft sounds of contentment.

When The Doctor stood, The Detective gave a whine, reaching for him. The Doctor chuckled.

“Shush. I’ll be right back. Just gonna go grab something.”

The something, much to The Detective’s delight, ended up being silk ties from the dresser. He sat up, a sideways grin on his face.

“You were serious, then.”

“Oh, yes.” The Doctor smiled, wrapping one of them, a deep shade of purple, around his own hand. He nodded to the bed. “Take off your clothes, and scoot back a bit.”

The Detective did, watching intently as first one ankle, then the other, was fastened to the bed post. There was enough slack so he could lift his knees, but barely. The Doctor moved up to the head of the bed, smiling down at The Detective.

“Arms.”

The Detective reached up, allowing The Doctor to bind his wrists as well. Then he stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“Not to tight?” he asked, slipping a finger between silk and skin. The Detective shook his head, glancing from wrist to The Doctor, who nodded.

“Alright. Good. Now then.” 

The Doctor left the room, and for a moment, The Detective began to panic, believing that this may be the lesson, being tied up and left. But The Doctor shortly returned, and in his hand was a riding crop. The Detective squirmed.

“Oh, God,” he moaned, involuntarily twisting in his restraints. The Doctor gave the helpless man a wicked, knowing smile.

“Not quite. Let’s see…” He walked to the bed, The Detective’s eyes following every movement. The Doctor laid the leather tip against The Detective’s cheek, and his eyes closed blissfully. The Doctor smiled.

“Like that, do you?”

“Mmm.”

“Open your mouth.”

He did, his eyes, too. The Doctor raised the crop, and The Detective’s tongue darted out, flicking against it. He wrapped his lips around the leather, sucking. The Doctor let out a low moan, remembering the way that mouth had worked when he was in it. 

Gently, he removed the now saturated riding crop, and trailed it down The Detective’s neck. It left a wet streak as it made it’s way down the pale column, to his chest. The Doctor positioned the tip over The Detective’s left nipple, and gently rubbed, granting him a sigh of satisfaction.

He started slowly, just gently tapping at first, the moans turning into hisses, and then a shout as the riding crop came down full force over. The Doctor pulled back, noticing how his own breathing had deepened.

“Still okay?” he asked. The Detective lifted one leg slightly, pulling his arms down as far as he could. He could not stay still. The Doctor chuckled, tapping The Detective’s side.

“Hello? I asked if you were alright in there?”

The Detective opened his eyes, turning his head to face The Doctor. His expression caused The Doctor’s cock to jump uncontrollably. Licked lips, in unison.

“Yes. Perfectly. Wonderful, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, do you remember the way you behaved the other day? When I was ‘late’?” The word dripped with sarcasm. The Detective nodded, a bit of a pout forming.

“Yes, but-”

Crack.

The sound of thunder, the crash of lightning the burn of fire. The Detective levitated as far as his binding would allow, his heels and the very back of his head supporting his weight as he mouthed silently, the sensation beating his brain, moving faster than the speed of sound.

The Doctor watched this in fascination, the riding crop at ease by his leg, tapping nervously. He shifted his weight, tilting his head as he used his free hand to scratch at his eyebrow. He cleared his throat as The Detective stilled.

“Hey.”

The Detective was aware, dimly, that from somewhere below, The Doctor was calling to him by name. It was the only outside sensation he could process. Everything was now sensation, all tingling, and float. His mind had short circuited, disconnected from his body, which was the only entry point into The Detective. The fact that he recognized his name on The Doctor’s lips was nothing short of a miracle.

His back touched the sheet, floating, he settled back into the husk that was now inhabited by some entity whose name was Want. 

“…yes..”

Disconnection, simple response. I hear you, I am here.

It was enough. The Doctor nodded, confirming to himself and giving his hand permission to raise, come down, repeat, wash, rinse and repeat…

They somehow managed to create complimentary sounds, the sharp bark, a shout, high keens and whines blending in time with low grunts of effort, intakes of sudden breath, and slow, deliberate moans. It was a chorus of desire, Want transforming into Need…

The Detective wasn’t aware of the exact moment when The Doctor stopped. All he knew was that there was a cooling touch on his inflamed skin, soft murmurings, low in his ear. He opened his eyes, with great difficulty, and turned to face The Doctor.

“….You-”

“God, yes.”

“-Now, need…”

The Doctor dropped the riding crop, grabbing The Detective by his sides, pulling him down as he settled between his spread legs. The Detective made a throaty growl, head lolling to the side as The Doctor reached down, and stroked him gently, before slipping further down.

The first swipe of tongue caused The detective to cry out, arching and pushing into The Doctor, who immediately pulled away, leaving The Detective straining against his restraints. When he realized this would not encourage The Doctor to continue, he stilled himself, raising his eyes in a repetitive pout.

The Doctor snapped his eyes up to The Detective as a predatory grin appeared. The Detective purred happily as he watched The Doctor slowly lower himself once more between the now still thighs. 

It was all he could do to control himself in order to not damage his wrists by the material that bound him as The Doctor teased and gently nipped. His hands gripped pale thighs so tightly, he was sure there would be bruises in the morning.

The Doctor reared back slightly with a gasp of held breath. He let go of The Detective’s legs, and not altogether gently, but very passionately, The Doctor slipped one, then another finger inside, half-dry, sweat and spit providing the only assistance. His free hand trailed over the pale and blotchy red flesh of The Detective, til it came to rest on his throat. He could feel the man’s heartbeat, and gently squeezed.

The moans of pleasure were cut off suddenly, and The Detective let his eyes close, falling into the sensation, rocking his hips just a little as The Doctor manipulated his body with skilled fingers. All too soon they were gone, leaving The Detective empty and gasping for air. The Doctor released his throat, and raised two fingers to The Detective’s mouth.

“Suck,” he ordered, and was obeyed wordlessly. The Doctor shivered a bit.

“There’s a good boy,” he murmured. “Suck them clean…”

When The Detective could no longer contain the whiny moans around his fingers, The Doctor slipped them from his mouth, coating the other man’s bottom lip with his own saliva.

The Doctor spread The Detective’s legs as far as they would go, positioning himself over the man. The scarfs prevented The Detective from wrapping any extremity around The Doctor, so he settled for holding the man’s forearm as it came to rest on a closed fist beside his head. He ran his calves up The Doctor’s sides as he whispered his name in devotion.

Skin touched skin and their eyes met for a moment before the first push, and then there was fluttering eyelids and open mouths, wordless sounds and new names for old gods. The Detective came forward as best as he could, kissing and mouthing and begging against The Doctor’s shoulder as he thrust, opening up new worlds, entering a dimension that’s entire population consisted of no one but those who inhabited this room.

They kissed, mixed with praise and lips, tongues and blasphemy, teeth and pain. They clung to each other, moving in time to a beat only they could hear. The Doctor’s hands on thin hips, pounding out a rhythm The Detective sang to. His release snuck up on him, and he turned wide, wild eyes to The Doctor. It was understood, and withheld. 

A strong fist closed around The Detective’s cock, squeezing. The Doctor’s eyes were like steel, and his voice like copper wool.

“Not yet,” he growled, continuing his motions as he sought out his own orgasm, rougher, selfish, using The Detective’s body as a mode of pleasure. As he began to feel the familiar tightening, he released his grip, turning it into slow, torturous strokes.

“Not yet,” he panted, “Not yet- Oh, Christ-” and came, head falling forward, almost brushing The Detective’s chest, who was panting, hanging by a mere thread. 

“Now,” came the demand, low and dry in The Detective’s ear. He allowed his body to slack, crying out as The Doctor barely had a chance to lift his head before the white heat was shot up, across the pale chest, running over rough knuckles, pooling between a prominent rib cage, in the dip of his throat.

The Doctor placed a soft kiss on the other man’s eyebrow as he rolled off, untying The Detective’s crimson wrists and limp legs. He only managed to slightly curl into himself before The Doctor joined him in bed, nuzzling against the back of his ear.

“You’re such a good boy, you know that?” he said softly, running his fingers across The Detective’s scalp. “My good boy. Mine,” he stated, giving the curls a slight tug.

The Detective’s lip curled into a smile as his eyes became heavy. He yawned and snuggled back into The Doctor.

“Yes, yes,” he hummed happily. “I know.”


End file.
